Good and Broken
by unsweetenedladykisses
Summary: A perfect boyfriend, a fast friendship, a secret romance. Love tends to strike at the worst of times. Liley.
1. The Beginning

A/N: Well, well, this is really my first fanfic ever. If all goes as I want it to, it will be fairly lengthy. You're gonna have to wait for the real Liley action to get going, and there will be some mild Jiley. The rating is T for now, but is subject to change.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything from Hannah Montana, Disney, or anything else copyrighted that is mentioned in this fiction.

--

We were sixteen years old and as foolish as the day is long. If you asked us if we were doing the right thing I'm sure we both would've said "Yep!" immediately. When we asked ourselves if we were doing the right thing I _know_ we couldn't have come up with an answer.

Miley always did have to get the things she wanted. Sure, she's nice as can be and most of the time she's like a sister to me, but when she's decided she's going to get something, you better believe she'll end up having it. She was a "have your cake and eat it too" kinda girl and I guess that's how I ended up here. I've never told anyone this story before, so you're gonna have to bear with me if my memory gets a little fuzzy in some parts since there's nobody else who could help me tell it.

"You can't be telling me you'll turn him down if- no, _when_, he asks" I demanded, not believing a word she said. We were tanning on the beach, Miley in her bikini, me in my top and board shorts, and we were- well, I was, eying Jake Ryan from about 10 yards away. And I did know he'd ask, because they always ask Miley. Amber and Ashley may not like her, but everybody besides Miley knows that that's just 'cause they're jealous. Miley's the prettiest girl in Malibu- I've known that since the beginning.

"Lil" she said, rolling her eyes, "he's just another guy. I mean, I know he's hot, but there's not much else to him."

"Well, you've got more character than I do, then. I couldn't say no to all six of them" I said with a gesture across the beach at the subject of our conversation, who was currently sitting at Rico's, talking with much enthusiasm to a couple of awe-struck fans.

"Huh?"

"Those babies" I explained while pointing to each individual delicious member of Jake's six-pack.

"Sweet niblets" she said with exasperation. "He's just a guy! I don't see what the big deal is about!"

"I sure do, and we're about to see it very up close in a second" I answered hurriedly as Jake and his six buddies pushed themselves off the stool and began to make their way towards us. Or rather, make their way towards Miley.

"Hey, Miley" Jake said with his signature confident wink. "Lilly" he acknowledged with a small nod. "As you know, my new movie is premiering in a week and, well, I'm going to be hitting up the red carpet again pretty soon."

"Here we go" Miley hissed in an undertone in my ear.

"The thing is, I'm going to be needing some accompaniment," Jake continued, oblivious. "My publicist told me I should go with my Vanessa, since she's my co-star and that's usually the way it goes."

God, every time he moved his arms his hair swept slightly to the side. The human embodiment of sexy was standing right in front me, asking my best friend out to attend a world premiere with him. I felt a small stab of jealousy.

"-Mike laughed at that, but I was totally serious," Jake steamed on, unaware that I was no longer listening to him and was instead regarding his face with an awe struck expression. "So, Miley… whaddya say?"

"Huh?" she blinked. Looks like I wasn't the only one who had stopped listening. Miley just looked bored, though. _She always takes this kind of thing for granted_, I inwardly complained. _If guys asked _me _out half as much as they ask her, I'd be ballistic._

"Will you go with me?" Jake pressed, looking hopeful and sexy.

"I, uh-" Miley fumbled. The quickly glanced at me and I gave her an affirmative smile. No matter how hot I thought Jake was, I wasn't going to ruin this for Miley. She was, after all, my best friend, and I was willing to bet she'd learn to like Jake if she gave him a small chance.

"Yeah… yeah, I'll go" she nodded.

"Great!" Jake responded, a huge smile spreading across his handsome features. "Well then, I'll meet you at your house Friday at six, eh?"

"Alright" she said. As he started to walk away, I jabbed her. "Thanks!" she called out after Jake's receding back.

Later that night finds us propped up against Miley's bed, perusing celebrity gossip magazines, not without some amusement.

"Do you ever think it's funny? Reading about yourself, I mean?" I inquire with a giggle as I hold up a page titled, "HANNAH'S SECRET ISLAND GETAWAY!"

The brunette snorted and made to grab the magazine, but I held it above her head. "Miles, I can't believe you've never told me about this place. Might be nice to inform your best friend about a tropical paradise you've been visiting. It sounds romantic," I continue despite her increasingly furious attempts to grab the article from my awful, sarcastic hands. "Imagine- moonlit baths beneath a starry sky, smoothies in hand as we make passionate love. We could have it all, Miley, we could have it- mmmpphh!"

She had finally succeeded in retrieving the magazine.

"In your dreams, creep," she smirked as she began to cast over the page with a critical eye. "I can't believe people actually swallow this stuff. There's not even such things as 'private' when it comes to Hannah."

"Ah, except the privates that I, as your faithful lover, know so w-" I attempt to swerve as she swings a pillow in the direction of my head.

"Yeesh, nice uppercut, Miles. If you hadn't been holding a pillow I'd be sporting quite the bruise right now. Have you been working out?" I ask sarcastically while rubbing the side of my head. Miley wasn't exactly the "working out" type.

She flexed her arms with an air of confidence, "Oh yes, yes I have."

I wiggled my eyebrows. "And it shows"

"Loser," she deadpanned, chucking another pillow my way. This one I neatly ducked. I grabbed another magazine and commenced flipping through it.

"Oh hey!" I remarked. "Whaddya know… a Hannah Montana poster. Lemme just rip that one out for you, Miles, I know what a big fan you are."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Me, the big fan? I seem to remember someone climbing through a certain window to grab a couple "souvenirs." To illustrate this she used air quotes. "You probably just want that to make out with."

"What can I say? Hannah's hot."

Our relationship had always been that way. Playful and a little suggestive, if only in an innocent manner. At this point in time my mind was filled only with the muscled forms of the guys I (in)discretely checked out on the beach.

The world was a small one at sixteen, filled with only limited possibilities. I had Oliver, goofy as always, and Miley, my best friend. I couldn't realistically ask for more.

Or so it seemed.


	2. Roberto Cavalli

A/N: Wow, thanks so much for all the nice reviews! I'm trying to update as quickly as possible. My last two weeks were awful and filled with schoolwork all the time, but most of it is out of the way, so I shouldn't be too bad of an updater. In fact… I kind of did most of this in class when I was supposed to be paying attention… _whoops._

Disclaimers: Same as first chapter. Don't own, don't sue.

--

Friday afternoons always meant English class with Mr. Corelli. He was, without a doubt, the downright oddest person I'd ever met, let alone teacher. He was forever popping up on our computer screens to remind us of homework. I don't even know where he got our screen names from! And he was completely obsessed with Jake. Well, can't blame him there…

I was pulled out of my reverie as Mr. Corelli began handing each of us a worn copy of _Man's Search for Meaning_ by Victor Frankl. Ugh, did this ever look boring. I flipped through the pages, expecting to get a whiff of that new-book scent. But mmm, instead it smelled good. Like lilac. Oh wait, that was Miley. She's a master at perfume application. It's not obnoxious and overpowering like it is when people splash it all over themselves. It was soft and sweet, filling my nostrils. I sighed happily and looked up. Mr. Corelli stood in front of me.

"I don't see too much reading going on, Ms. Truscott." He pursed his lips and scratched his blond mop. "Less with the daydreaming and more with the learning, unless you want to share your thoughts."

I muttered a "no," opened my book, and promptly blushed. Blushed? Why was I blushing? It's not like I was thinking anything inappropriate. I was just thinking about Miley's perfumes… Well, thinking about how Miley smelled when she wore her perfumes… like she'd been rolling in a field of crushed, pressed lilac-

"Hello? Earth to Lilly… Lilly!" Miley was waving a hand in front of my face. "We need to finish this chapter before class is over, you know."

Whoops, I'd spaced out again. I felt heat slowly creeping up my neck. Miley let out a grating laugh. I love her laugh- it's gruff and uncontrolled. Most girls have high clear laughs but her's is deep and it sounds… used. Like she laughs all the time. She snapped her fingers before my eyes. "Fantasize later, space cadet" she chuckled.

"Haha, yeah" I muttered. _I wasn't _fantasizing. _I was just thinking about… about… _I shook my head. Why was I being so weird today?

I decided to commit myself to finishing the assigned chapter before the bell rang, signaling the end of a strange English class.

"Jake is gonna be here in _two hours_" Miley complained. "I'm going to be on the red carpet! Ugh, I ain't got no idea what to wear. I mean, as Hannah I got tons o' options, but people might rec-nize the clothes, ya know? 'Course, e'rybody knows that with bold eyes you gotta go wit' su'tle lips, but I'm near clean out o' my good eyeliner. Didya leave…" she babbled on, becoming increasingly incoherent. I giggled. When Miley got excited, her Tennessee roots started kicking in; it was like a switch inside her brain got flipped and her accent became quite prominent.

"Lilly!" she screamed in frustration. "Whatcha laughing about? I got a real problem here!"

I continued to chortle as if she hadn't spoken at all. "Argh! I just _don't_ understand you sometimes! Here I am, jus' two 'ours away from bein' seen on nati'nel television an' you can't do nothin' but laugh!" She waved her arms wildly.

"Aww, you're adorable, do you know that?" I cooed and patted her cheek lightly, getting up to rifle through Miley's enormous closet.

"Well-" she stammered, apparently quite confused about where my comment came from. "Well that doesn't help!" she finished, suddenly decisive.

"You've got- no, too Hannah" I said, tossing her white denim jacket on the floor. "You've got the cutest southern accent. I'd trade Oliver for one like yours."

"But you _do_ have an accent. At least, to me you do. When we first moved here," she gestured around her room, her accent suddenly tame, "I couldn't understand a word you guys were saying. It like if you suddenly found yourself at my Christmas dinner table, talking to Aunt Pearl…. Hey! We were talking about what I need to wear! Damnit, Lilly, lemme take a look downstairs, see if I've left anything."

She scampered out of her room and down the stairs, cursing under her breath. I ambled over to the top of the staircase and waited.

"Bud!" Robby Ray's voice sailed out from somewhere below, likely in the kitchen. "That Jake boy dropped summit off f'you earlier today."

I detected some rustling going on and then a sharp intake of breath. "Oh…my…GOD!" Miley squealed. "This is… this is amazing!" Her ecstatic face came into view as she bounded up the stairs, some piece of clothing in tow. "Lilly," she said, breathless, "Jake dropped off a dress for me." She held it up. It was an off-white and red floral design, with a collar, and a front that would expose some of Miley's chest, but nothing too scandalous. The back was almost completely nonexistent except for a small strap where her lower back would be. Its bottom trailed on the floor.

"Wow, Miles, it's really cute," I said, genuinely impressed.

Apparently Miley wasn't satisfied with my reaction. "Lil, this isn't_ just _a cute dress-" There went those damn air quotes again. "It's a _Roberto Cavalli _dress!" she finished triumphantly.

My eyes must have popped out of my head. "OHMIGOD! Can I hold it? Please, Miles, lemme just hold it for a second" I pleaded, stretching out my right hand.

"Whoa-ho-ho, hands down, Ms. Grabby. I am _not_ going to in any way endanger a red carpet dress and well…. I know how you get when you see something you like" she said, eying the corner of my mouth, where a small trail of spit had already begun to appear.

"Hey!" I protested, wiping the side of my mouth. "I just want to see it for a second… a second, Miles, just a second." I put on my very best puppy dog face.

"Hmm…" she considered for a moment. "…Nope, sorry, I'm even impenetrable to Uncle Earl's, and he knows how to tug on those heartstrings. I'm just not risking anything with her… Aubrey" she sighed softly with a tentative touch to the dress.

"It doesn't do her justice" I said, wistful.

"Nothing would" she replied with a decided note of wonder caught in her voice.

"Well, if I can't hold it, go try it on for me!... Come on now, as you say, we've got less than two hours now!"

Miley looked startled, but then sprung into action. She masterfully started to peel off her socks (weirdo, what kind of girl takes their socks off first?), then shirt. Her tank and jeans were the last to go, hitting the ground with a satisfying _fwop_! I found myself looking at a nearly naked Miley and started to turn away, suddenly ashamed. What? Why was I all of a sudden embarrassed to see Miley in her bra and underwear? I mean, she must have changed in front of me a million times. Nonetheless, I sat on the edge of her bed and watched the wall until I heard a triumphant "ta-da!" from behind.

I turned around. The wind was knocked out of me with what I say. "Miles…" I croaked, "Miles, you look really pretty. No- you look beautiful." And I meant what I said. I'd seen Hannah in hundreds of fancy dresses, but it wasn't the same at all when I looked at Miley.

She tried not to look too pleased with herself. "You're too kind, Lilly."

I adopted a very solemn expression. "No, really, you look fantastic. The only thing is…" I started to giggle again.

"What?" she demanded, exasperated.

"Miley… Miley, it's supposed to be a _braless_ dress" I informed her and then started cracking up.

Miley promptly blushed a deep crimson and inspected her cleavage, tugging at the visible part of her bra. "I would've noticed" she muttered, and then hoisted the dress up from the bottom with great care. This time she started to unclip her bra. Now this I really didn't need to see and turned around again, feeling oddly squirmy.

About an hour and a half later, Miley was applying the finishing touches to her make up as I made myself happy trying out Hannah outfits. "God, you are the luckiest girl on Earth, I swear" I pronounced, offering up a pair of shoes. "These are gorgeous… and Italian. When did- hey, the doorbell! Jake's probably here!"

Miley set down her lip gloss. "And I'm ready! Quick, Lilly, how do I look?"

"Beautiful, my dear. Now go open the door before Jake freezes and decides to ask some other girl."

She hurried down the stairs, making sure not to let the bottom of the dress drag, and I followed. Robby Ray had already let Jake in and he was sitting on the couch with a dozen roses. Classic. As always, he looked handsome and perfectly charming. Miley was attending a world premiere with Jake Ryan, wearing a Roberto Cavalli dress… _lucky, lucky girl,_ I thought with a disbelieving nod of my head.

"Hey Miley" he started, but then stopped. "Wow, you look… great" he finished.

Ha! Nice and careful word choice, Jake, I noted as I spied Robby Ray standing with the inspecting eyes of an overprotective father near the door.

Miley stammered a thanks and took one last look at me and her dad, then gave us both a quick hug. "Have fun" I whispered in her ear.

Robby Ray simply patted her back with an expression of giving up. "You be careful out there" he advised her.

"Will do" she smiled and took Jake's arm.

"You ready?" he asked and planted a small kiss on her cheek.

As the duo walked out the door I had a very violent fit of jealousy take over my insides, stronger than when he'd asked her. Not just stronger, either… different. Something was different and I couldn't put my finger on it. Instead of puzzling it out, I simply sighed, waved good bye to Robby Ray, and began my walk home with only my bizarre envious feelings to keep my company.

I should have known right then that things were changing. If I had, things might've been different now. Things might've… not ended up like this.

Like this.


	3. You Can't

**A/N:** I am SO sorry, this took me longer than I expected. Alright, so this story sort of took an unexpected twist in my mind, so things may turn out very differently than you imagine. Thanks again to all the reviewers- I'm having as much fun writing this as I have been having reading fics, which I never expected to happen. The rating has also been moved up to M for language, although it would have had to have been moved up later anyway for other things. Also, in case anyone noticed, the Roberto Cavalli dress that I described was, in fact, the one Miley wore at the CMT awards (not while performing- before on the carpet).

Disclaimers: Same as the first chapter. Don't own, don't sue.

--

On Saturday morning, I woke up much too early. _Ugh, it's like seven, _I thought with a sigh. Usually on Saturdays I woke up between eleven and twelve and Miley did the same, which meant that I'd have to wait at least five whole hours to call her. And seeing as my mom had been kept late at work and had decided last-minute to crash at her co-worker's house, I was completely alone, with nothing to do.

I was extremely hungry, but our house was practically bare and I'd never been able to bake or any of those kind of things. I couldn't even make pancakes from the just-add-water mix, let alone flip them. I was pretty dependent on my mom or Robby Ray when it came to such topics as food and was entirely lost when I suddenly had to provide for myself.

The time on the clock by the oven said 7:49. I heaved another sigh. I was _not_ going to wait until Miley got up to get some food. I picked up the landline and began dialing Oliver's number. He always got up at 6:30, regardless of the date, so he would putter around and do his strange Olivery things before he actually had to do things.

"Oliver?... I don't know, she's sleeping… look, I just… I'm hungry, damnit!...Poptarts or something, I dunno. Whatever you've got…yeah… see you in a few."

With the issue of breakfast solved, I flopped onto the couch and considered my upcoming day. I found myself unusually curious and antsy about Miley's date. How did it go? Did they have fun? Have they kissed? The unwelcome stab of jealousy rose up again inside my chest as I remembered Jake's quick peck on her cheek. Why did I have to keep bringing that up to myself? It was completely unlike me to dwell on something so trivial. Well, it _should_ have been trivial, but it sure didn't feel like it to me.

I idly flipped through the pages of the nearest J-14. God knows why Miley read these things; if anything, they were things she already knew, since all the celebrity gossip inevitably made its way to Hannah Montana first. Sometimes I wondered what it would have been like if it was me…. Would I act the same? Would I live here? Would I still be friends with Miley? When these sorts of questions came to me, I was always really amazed at how she kept her cool. Would I have had that kind of genuine character and sense of self? Would I have been able to gracefully step away from a world that loved me and into the shoes of a normal girl _every single night?_

No. My answer was always no. In the past six years that I'd known Miley, I'd never met anyone like her. Miley was, and still is, an extraordinary girl. I knew that back then in a sense, and I sure as hell know that now. One of the things that hurts the most is that she never really understood what she was to the world, to me. She didn't _really_ know. But, I digress. Sometimes I wish I didn't have a tale to tell, but sometimes I feel like that's my job now. To write my story, I mean. In general, people don't know what they have; don't treasure it each and every day. It sounds clichéd but they really don't. Again, I'm losing my trail of thought… oh, yes, me lazing around, killing time before Oliver came to feed me before I faded away.

I (im)patiently waited for that shaggy brown mop to bound into my living room after a nice refreshing ride (or so he often called it) on his… purple bike. There are words for people like him, but I wasn't allowed to say them.

I languidly felt about on the couch beside me for a remote, digging deep down into spaces between the cushions. A couple pennies, a liberal amount of dust, my mom's credit card that she thought I stole last week and… aha! The channel changer! It forever seemed to be hiding itself in the most bizarre places, you have no idea. I had found it in my room the other day and I don't have a TV up there.

I flicked through channels while not really caring what was on. The vibrant colors from whatever FOX news was showing caught my eye. A fire roared across the screen, smoke spilling out of the blackened windows from what looked to have been an old Victorian house in the rich section of Baltimore. I cringed- something about fires really creeped me out in general and well, when people died it just scared me, honestly. As I watched the flames billow across the screen, I heard my front door creak open. The cheerful countenance of Oliver Oken was standing on my welcome mat. But more importantly, a pack of those mini-cereals were within ten feet of me.

"Thank YOU Kellogg's! Oliver, grab me a bowl."

Oliver frowned in mock hurt. "You're welcome. You know, I didn't have to bike all the way up here just for your dietary needs."

I smiled winningly up at him and pinched his cheek while pulling the milk out of the refrigerator. "But you did, Olliekins, and that's why I love you."

"Yeah, yeah" he grumbled in response. "So do you have any idea what you want to do today? Are we calling Miley?"

I grabbed a spoon from the drawer. "If she's not busy, then yeah."

"How'd the big red carpet thing with Jake go, do you know? She didn't seem too psyched, I have to say."

Alas, it was impossible for me to answer, as my mouth was crammed full of the sugary delights of frosted flakes. "Mhm" I managed to squeeze out.

He fidgeted a bit with the bottom of his under shirt. "Do you..." he started, uncertain, "…do you think she really likes him?"

How the hell was I supposed to know? "What? I dunno. I bet she likes him. And why do you care?"

He continued to finger the worn lining on the bottom of his shirt while staring pointedly at his toes. "If you tell her this, I swear I'll kill you" he breathed as I nodded, "but I sort of… well, I sort of like her, okay?"

"Miley?" I asked lamely, my breakfast forgotten.

"Miley" he confirmed.

I felt thunderous bolts of anger shoot through my body like electricity. I shouldn't have been surprised. Most guys I knew liked Miley at one point, I should've been used to it. But somehow, it was different now. There was something very wrong about Oliver liking Miley and I knew it immediately. "What, you… you can't Oliver. What are you thinking? It's MILEY. Fucking Miley! She's like, one of your best friends. You just don't do that, Oliver, you can't. Fucking can't."

"What? Come on, Lily, I didn't _want_ to."

"It doesn't matter! You did! You're so stupid, how could you even imagine…. it's Miley!"

"You know what? You're being a jerk, Lily. I thought you'd understand but instead you're just acting like an asshole. I'm leaving." And with that, still rubbing his chest lightly as if the hurt was physical, he stormed out the door.

It rattled in its wood frame and all of a sudden I realized what I'd done. I screamed at Oliver, cursed at him, because he liked someone. What was wrong with me? Of late, I'd been acting really strangely for seemingly no reason. All of a sudden, I was feeling so many things and life was not offering any explanations or answers. Anger, jealousy, confusion; all these things had been heaped liberally onto my head without the slightest warrant or warning.

I felt used up, stretched, if you will. My emotions had taken control by force. I needed some stability, something familiar and comforting that I could always rely on. As I was thinking this, I spied my skateboard leaning against the now-bruised doorway. With a sigh of satisfaction, I walked over to it and picked it up, lovingly feeling the worn grip tape.

With a feeling of resolution, I grabbed my helmet and headed outside to practice a couple tricks on the street. That was one thing about skateboarding that I loved; it was a one-person sport. You could do it whenever you wanted and relied only on yourself. It gave me a feeling of independency that I sought endlessly in my teenage years as I began to grow into the adult I was going to be and I could have loved it for that alone. But I'd be forgetting the delight in trying someone new, daring to go where I'd never treaded before; I'd be forgetting the adrenaline rush as I landed a particularly difficult trick; and, most of all, I'd be forgetting how all of time seemed to stand still when I was on my board. By myself, I could spend hours just practicing and lose all my sense of the world outside me.

Right then, however, I was not thinking these things. I was thinking that I had no clue what I was thinking or why and that perhaps getting away from it all for awhile on my trusty skateboard would help me forget what had been running through my head recently. By my house, I went over all my basics. Kickflip, heelflip, ollie; all these I performed with success. I hopped onto a rail and began a basic 50-50 grind when I leaned slightly forwards and toppled onto cement stairs.

"Shit! I hissed as my knee connected rather painfully with one of the edges. Blood immediately began to well up and, cursing, I grabbed my board and made my way to my house. Still muttering profanities in a low volume and clutching my aching joint, I made my way to my front door, only to stop short. Leaning casually against the frame Oliver had stormed out of only a couple hours before, was Miley.


	4. Miley's Medicine

A/N: Hey, thanks again for all your wonderful reviews

**A/N: **Hey, thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! I've been writing throughout all my classes (it's the end of the year anyway). I'm also trying to make them at least 1500 words each- I know the last one was around 1300 or something. Sorry about that! Most people thought that last line in chapter 3 was a big cliffhanger, but it really wasn't meant to be. Miley and Lilly just sort of appear at each other's houses in the TV show so that's really all it was. Anyhow, a lot of fluff in this chapter, sorry, but it's also necessary to show Lilly's growing feelings.

I've also been really conflicted about where this story is heading. I've come to the conclusion that we may see alternate endings, because I'm really confused about the end. I want it to be one way because it's what I originally planned and I have it all in mind, but then it might ruin the feel of the story. So what I'm really saying is that: I don't know what the hell I'm doing!

Enjoy!

--

Miley's eyes widened. "Lilly! What happened? Are you okay?"

I gritted my teeth. "Ergh, yeah. It's not too bad." That was a lie- it hurt like hell.

"Oh my god, you need to get that cleaned up. Wait- let's get you inside first" she anxiously spurted as she darted towards me and grabbed my waist so that I was leaning against her right side. My stomach uncomfortably lurched and I got the funny feeling that it had nothing to do with the blood now trickling down my leg. "It's okay, Miles, I'm fine."

"No, you're not" she reprimanded in a motherly tone. She relieved me of my skateboard with her free hand and, with her help, I stumbled inside and plopped down on the couch. By this point, the evidence of damage to my knee had run to the edge of my socks.

Miley tried not to look to panicky, but didn't manage to suppress a small squeak. "You sit here- I'm going to get stuff to fix you up" she said and bounded up the stairs. I heard the shuffling of cupboards and grinned at how she knew where everything was in my house.

Only seconds later, she arrived next to me, breathless, with a bottle of antiseptic, a cloth, bandages, and a shallow basin full of hot water. I marveled at how quickly she'd assembled everything. "This is probably going to sting" she warned.

I groaned, squeezed my eyes shut, and leaned backwards into the squishy couch cushions. A little slosh of water was audible as she dipped the mini towel into the bowl. She lightly pressed it into the cut. I gasped. Slight tingles had run up the insides of my legs- both of them, not just the injured one.

Miley clearly took this as a sign of pain. "Sorry" she grimaced, but continued to brush the dirt out with the cloth. It really didn't sting too much, but my thighs remained curiously sensitive to her touch. She now picked up the bottle of antiseptic. I opened an eye and watched, readying myself. Spray. Shit! That _did_ hurt! Spray. Spray. I muffled a yelp.

She shot me another look of remorse and grabbed the box of bandages, picking out a large one. Working quickly, she deftly placed the sticky brown paper onto my wounded joint. At the delicate sensation of her fingers against my skin, my stomach performed further acrobatics. I grunted out loud. Miley gave me a quizzical look.

"I don't feel so good" I muttered with a gesture towards my stomach.

"I can imagine" she sympathized with a frown, giving my hand a small squeeze. Another flip. "Do you want me to leave so you can get some rest?"

"No! I mean, do you want to, you know, stay over for a bit?"

Her reply was a husky laugh. "Sure. Want to watch a movie?"

"Definitely. Could you grab me a soda?"

"Will do. I'm going to make popcorn, too…Gross, Lilly, you left your cereal out. Eeek, that sure don't smell too ripe" she complained while tossing the paper bowl into the bin. Soon after, I heard a familiar popping noise and the waft of movie-theater style butter entered the room. Miley approached me with a Dr. Pepper in hand. I accepted it silently and nursed it for a couple moments before setting it down and attempting to get up.

"No!" Miley hissed crossly. "Don't put weight on it."

"Alright, _mom_" I sarcastically replied. In truth I was very grateful for all of her worry and help. "But really, Miles, thanks for patching me up and all."

She smiled warmly. "No problem, Lil. What kind of friend would I be if I just left you to bleed?"

I didn't answer and instead asked, "So what movie do you want to watch?"

"I dunno" she said, sauntering over to the furiously beeping microwave. She pulled out the now full bag, careful not to burn her fingers. Grabbing a huge creamy colored bowl, she made her way back over to me and set it down.

"So" she began, now picking through cases on my DVD shelf. "How about…Oooh, can we see John Tucker Must Die? I love this movie." Without really waiting for an answer, she stuck it into the player and hit the power button.

"I didn't say we could" I teased.

"Ehh, you could never say no to me" she retorted with a cheeky grin. "Now move over, hot stuff; just because you were clumsy enough to scrape half your knee off doesn't mean you get to hog the entire couch."

"Maybe not, but I will anyway" I said and pushed my legs farther so that they were now stretched all the way over to the other side.

"Fine" she huffed and promptly sat herself down on my lap. "Your funeral."

Honestly, I didn't mind too much since she hardly weighed a thing and her warmth was strangely comforting. I decided to make a fuss anyway.

"Hey! You're crushing my intestines! Get your fat butt off me."

"I don't think so, missy. I think you like my fat butt." She punctuated this with a wiggle of her offending body part.

"Arghhh… please, Miles?" Nonetheless, I found myself hoping she would say no.

"Then move your feet!"

I reluctantly retracted my legs and she immediately hopped off, squeezing herself next to me. "Thanks, sweetie."

Thirty minutes into the movie, Miley, mimicking the current scene, jokingly asked, "Need me to give you kissing lessons, Lilly?" She batted her lashes and arched an eyebrow.

"Haha" I laughed weakly. For some reason I didn't feel comfortable messing around like that right then.

I think Miley was a little put off by my lack of reaction, for she remained silent for quite a long time after this. I, however, was now distracted. Every so often I'd catch my gaze sliding over towards the brown-haired girl sitting beside me. It was quite irritating, really, but I simply couldn't help noticing little things. She had her hair tied up and one miniature curl was loose, trailing down the back of her neck. She seemed extremely concentrated on the film, eyes never leaving the screen. During suspenseful parts she'd bite her bottom lip in anxiety. I shivered.

"You okay?" she asked, her vision snapping away from the movie.

"Cold" I answered, feeling the need for an explanation.

"Aww…where do you keep blankets again?"

"I dunno, far away" I shrugged.

At this, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around me. I shivered again, although I was quite warm. She held me tighter. We stayed in this fashion for the rest of the movie. Miley had fallen unusually quiet during the last half hour but, I discovered when I shifted to look at her, this was only because she'd fallen asleep. I suppressed a giggle and attempted to carefully extricate myself from her arms. It was to no avail, however, as she was holding on to me quite securely.

Not wanting to wake her, I resigned myself to at least thirty minutes of lying in a somewhat awkward position. _Actually_, I thought as I snuggled deeper into her embrace, _this is pretty comfortable_. And what with the feel of her hot breath on my neck and the steady in and out push of her stomach against my back, I was soon lulled into sleep.

"Lill-yyy… Lill-yyy… losserrr…" My tired eyes creaked open despite my body's protest to find the warmth behind me gone and instead waving its hand in front of my face.

"Hey" I managed to object, although it came out to be more of a croak.

"It's two o' clock, sleepy head. Rise and shine."

"You have got to be kidding me" I grumbled, although I started to get up. "And I suppose you don't know that when _I_ wanted to get up a bit ago, you were holding onto me like you do with Beary Bear. I was just too nice to wake you."

"No lies, Truscott, you like it when I hold you close."

"Guilty as charged. Now can we go out to eat? I'm ravenous."

We decided on a pizza place called Giovanni's a couple blocks away. I couldn't always understand what the Italian guys with heavy accents were saying there, but they sure made a mean pizza. As we picked up our slices from the counter and sat down, I realized that I'd never asked Miley about her date last night.

"Oh my god! Miley, I totally forgot, how'd it go with Jake?" I gushed, my mouth full of hot pizza.

She seemed to consider this for a second. "Well, it was actually… pretty good" she conceded, picking slightly at the pepperoni.

"I told you you'd have a great time! What happened?"

"Well, of course we had to go to the premiere, but about half an hour in he asked me if I wanted to leave and go get something to eat. It was really sweet- he had this guy cover for him so that we could slip away. We got into a small car so nobody would notice, but not so far away we got out and met this huge stretch limo. There was a fridge in it and everything."

"Wow" I breathed.

"Yeah, I know. And he took me to this really cute Turkish restaurant where they had secluded tables so no one could bother us. We talked for _ages. _I know I said he was a jerk, but I dunno... It was just really, really nice. It made me re-think everything I thought I knew about Jake. And" she started, a smile creeping somewhat reluctantly onto her features, "he kissed me good night."

"No way!" I gasped, not really contesting it. "On the lips?"

"Yep" she said, blushing furiously.

We spent the rest of the day just relaxing, really. One time she asked if we should call Oliver, but I made up some excuse about his mom making him help her clean the house. In truth, I felt extremely bad about what I'd said. I had no idea what had come over me, but in my mind I knew it was connected with Miley.

Over the course of the day, I thought more and more about her kiss with Jake. The longer I thought about it, I became quite sure that I didn't like it at all. Not one bit. But I also became aware that somewhere along my horizons, a storm was brewing.

Thunder was not long off.


	5. For a Second Time

**A/N: **Oh my god, I am SO sorry for the humongous wait, but I wrote like three-fourths of this chapter and then LEFT the book I wrote it in at my friend's beach house. So I'm sort of really hoping her family doesn't find it and decide to read what's in the back because that would be extremely awkward and weird. OH YEAH, I just realized I haven't written since before I went to Zootopia… yes Zootopia! I WAS 10 ROWS AWAY FROM MILEY! My friend's dad hooked us up since he's in the music business so they were a 288 value EACH completely free! NICK JONAS POINTED AT ME!… but I digress.

Anybody seen the album cover for Breakout? It's beautiful! Oh, and in case you haven't heard… Hannah Montana is only doing one more season. Depressing, is it not? At the same time, I'm really moved by the maturity Miley is showing in her decision to let it go. Most stars tend to cling on to the thing that made them famous, and the fact that she, a fifteen year old girl, wants to move onto more mature things as a musician and actress is enormously impressive.

Damnit, I lost track again… back to the story! To be honest, I was planning on an extremely sad ending, but A. I realized I hate sad endings myself and B. I got some requests to NOT make it sad… so we'll see how it goes, but I promise it won't be an absolutely horrifying ending. Story time for real now!

--

Something about Mondays always really depressed me. I think it's the fact that you've got the whole week stretched ahead of you, full of expectations, schoolwork, and lately, major emotional train wrecks. I was seriously beginning to wonder whether I'd lost my mind. First, my stomach executes increasingly perfect aerial moves that I wish I could do on a skateboard at least a couple times daily, and second, I blast my head off at Oliver for seemingly no reason at all!

_SLAP!_

The thunderous crack of a yardstick on my desk reminded me that daydreaming in Skunkle's class was akin to jabbing a sleeping dragon with a pitchfork.

"TRUSCOTT! Wake up now or get out of my sight!"

_I hate you_. "I'm sorry, Ms. Kunkle." _Sorry that you're an old bitch who no one will ever love._

I grinned slightly at my sullen inner thoughts, but no signs of happiness were to be tolerated. "Don't you smirk at me, Truscott, this is a place of learning."

"Yes ma'am!" _Fuck you!_

She went back to rambling and being a complete jerk and I went back to my own little world. I began doodling the classroom (I was a terrible drawer, but it was a hell of a lot better than taking useless notes). Tables, desks, pencils- they all fell to the merciless power of my ballpoint pen. I spied Miley in the right corner of the classroom and almost without noticing what I was doing, began to draw the curve of her back. I shaded behind her neck where she was hunched over. From my position I couldn't tell if she was sleeping or not, but the position of her hand pushed up against the underside of her chin suggested she was paying at least as little attention as I was. Her hair cascaded wonderfully down her back like a frozen, mahogany-colored waterfall. Small curls protruded from the bottom of her hair, revealing a layer of coiled hair underneath a straighter façade. I admired the many shades of brown that decorated her head with an odd urge to run my hands through its silky mass. I continued to sketch Miley with increased concentration, ignoring the activities inside my stomach. Drawing her made me realize that she had such a very complex appearance. If you didn't have her ear, her neck, the tip of her nose _just so_ the whole picture seemed hugely off.

A whack of Skunkle's yardstick against the board caused Oliver to cough, now coated by chalk dust, and me to jerk my pencil weirdly, ruin my drawing, and cuss vigorously in a voice that was certainly louder than a whisper.

Our teacher appeared incensed and fixed me with her remarkably hawk-like stare. "Truscott, Oken, principal's office!"

I probably deserved what I got, but sending Oliver, too? That was ridiculous. "Are you kidding me? He only coughed!"

"Are you talking back to me?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

"She was just saying what happened!"

"Stewart, you too. Now GO!"

Recognizing a losing battle, the three of us trudged out the door to a chorus of 'ooooh's from our classmates. We all half-giggled and began our walk in relative silence. Arriving at the office, the principal looked over at us with a suspicious gaze.

"The three of you again? Well, whaddya got for me, Ms. Stewart?" He motioned for her to come forward and explain.

I sighed and sat down. Seeing Oliver park himself a couple seats away from me, I decided that this was my time to act. I reached out and touched him lightly on the arm, whispering, "Ollie?"

He refused to look at me and I thus attempted a second time. "Smokin' Oken?"

This resulted in a slight shift of his eyes in my direction, but still no real response. "Oliver I'm trying to fucking apologize here, don't make this hard."

My last try solicited a barely suppressed chuckle out of my mop-headed friend. I took this as an encouraging sign and continued. "Look, Oliver, I'm really sorry about how I blew up at you before. I don't why I did, I just… Well, I mean, I'm sorry. Are you mad at me?"

He ran his hand through his brown-colored hair and heaved a sigh. "I mean, I guess not… I was just really, really shocked."

"Yeah, I know, I'm so sorry."

"I was kind of expecting some sympathy, you get me? It's not easy liking your best friend, you know," he continued with a pained expression on his face. "I'm still confused about everything."

"How so?"

"Well, you were right, in a sense, when you yelled at me… it _is_ Miley" he finished softly. I motioned for him to continue. "Me liking her? That's a worry she doesn't need to have. She's got Jake and- no, Lilly, I'm not stupid" he said when he saw me opening my mouth to protest, "I'm not blind, either. She's not going to like me, Lilly, I know that."

I suddenly felt extremely sad for my despairing best friend. "You never know how things will end up, Oliver. There are things in store for us that we could have never imagined, I know it." I rubbed his arm lightly. "People change, feelings change… just don't give up, eh? This could be a phase, you never know."

He looked doubtful, yet grateful, but this expression was quickly wiped off as Miley got up from the chair she was defending herself in and approached us.

"Hey Miley" we said in unison with matching weak smiles.

--

As usual, the principal just spouted the customary crap about keeping quiet in class, respecting your elders, blah blah blah. Otherwise, we got off scot-free AND we got to miss the second half of Geography. In a nutshell, the three of us were happy as clams when we stepped out of the school. Miley twirled around with a giant grin on her face.

"Monday's over! Yee-haw!"

"Hick."

"You love me for it" she said with another trademark smile and hooked our arms. We commenced skipping, running, and laughing towards her house, Oliver in tow. That was, until Jake Ryan appeared, pulling up to the school in the fancy car he got for his birthday a couple months ago.

"Miley!" he said enthusiastically, stepping out of his car (the doors even opened upwards, the rich bastard). He removed his aviators and placed them carefully in the front pocket of his button-down shirt. As he flashed his pearly whites, I swear I could feel the heat coming from my friend's body turn up several notches. I was sort of surprised that I, too, was not feeling the irresistible urge to run my hands up his body and ravish him right then and there, but passed it off as my usual Monday blues. In fact, I was particularly less than happy to see him, which was certainly strange.

Jake, however, plodded on towards us, oblivious to my internal battles. I waited for his customary polite nod in my direction before addressing the only reason he was here. Yep, there it went, along with Miley's last shred of dignity- she had her flirty face on and was giving him what appeared as a shy smile but was really a mask for reckless seduction.

"Listen, Miley, I wanted to _really _thank you for coming with me on Friday. I had a great time with you."

"Thanks, Jake, I had a lot of fun coming. You, sir," she punctuated this with a light tap on his chest, "were an excellent escort."

"Thanks." He smiled up like a shy dog. "I have good news, too. I know how much you liked that dress and, well, I put a couple of the right words in with a couple of the right people, and they said you could keep it."

I watched with interest for her expected reaction. Likely, she would swoon, squeal, then jump up and down and clutch on to whoever happened to be next to her.

Miley appeared faint for a second. "Ohmigosh!" She grabbed my shoulder and began "happy dancing" with several audible yet indistinguishable noises of joy. "Jake, thank you so much!" She was putty in his hands. Putty!

Jake look pleased but altogether overwhelmed by her reaction. "Er, yeah, glad you liked it so much." He rubbed his hands together in an uncomfortable fashion and stared at the apparently fascinating pavement, looking nervous for the first time. "Um, well, I wasn't going to ask, but since you said that, you know, you had a good time, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out on Saturday?" It was adorable the way he was fumbling. At least, it should have been. But he had asked her on a date the day me and Miley _always _hung out. Always. Even if she had something Hannah-related to do, Lola came along. Stupid Jake, should have known that.

Miley clearly realized his mistake as well. "Ah, um" she started, unsure. I also suddenly became a part of the enchanted-by-sidewalk club. I was most definitely not going to interfere here, although I knew which outcome I was pressing for. I could feel Miley's hot gaze burn the back of my neck for a second and then… "Sorry, Jake, I'd love to, but I've already got plans."

Internally, I whooped. Externally, I lost interest in the ground and began paying intense attention to the formations of the clouds on that day, pretending to not really be listening to the conversation.

"How about Sunday?" Shit. Should have known there was a catch.

--

Oliver scampered away from Miley's house like a frightened bunny. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the distinct sound of a man voice being used.

"I hate to say this, but his mom is just downright creepy" I informed Miley as we sat out on her porch.

"For sure" she agreed, picking at the seeds of a little plant she picked on the way home.

The silence was rather comforting, but I had an insatiable curiosity surrounding the topic of just how much Miley liked Jake. It was clear she was crushing, but how far? "So, excited for Sunday?"

"Yeah" she answered lamely. "You know, I hope you don't think I'm ever going to blow you off for him, Lil." Damn, caught. She pierced me with her cerulean gaze and I wanted very much to shiver. "I like him, but you're my best friend, Lilly, and no guy will ever come in the way of that" she finished softly, picking up my hand and tracing the lines of my palm.

"Sometimes it's plain weird how you know what I'm feeling."

She chuckled at that, still holding my hand. Whether I wanted to yank it away or never move it, I couldn't tell.

"You gonna give that back?"


	6. What Oliver Knows

**A/N:** So 7 Things is finally available on iTunes (and this time, it's on purpose)! In addition, the video will premier on June 28th. Plus, if you haven't heard, Miley will be hosting the Teen Choice Awards on August 4th. She's up for four awards herself, and you can vote once a day, so go to teenchoiceawards(dot)com to do that

About the story, it's probably gonna take some twists you didn't see coming. But I finally know what's going to happen and how it's going to end. The way I've got it planned, this is going to end up rather lengthy, so buckle up folks. I have decided, too, to start naming my chapters. Please also note that the rating becomes an M in this chapter.

Also, special thanks to **Xx.Get.Over.It.xX**and** Gentry **because I believe they have reviewed all my chapters. Thanks for motivating me to write.

--

The week came and went with remarkable speed. It was April and spring was tentatively poking its head from behind the once-barren trees of Malibu. Flowers had begun to flourish in style, with hundreds of different colors and shades suddenly making an appearance around the parks and peoples' gardens. Not only that, but after our short dispute, Oliver and I were on good terms again. And to top it all off, the days were getting longer and I would thus no longer have to walk home in complete darkness at six o' clock after a run at the skate park. There was only one thing that soured the whole deal…my best friend's relationship with Jake Ryan was blossoming as quickly as the plant life. For an inexplicable reason, this made me want to reverse time and make our world dead and cold for a second time, along with the idea of the two of them ever together again.

Two weeks ago, I would have called me raving mad. I wasn't sure of anything anymore. Random things made me smile like crazy, while others would put me in a bad mood for the entire day. Instead of drooling over Jake and his ridiculous hotness, I was coming to slowly hate his guts. Whenever I saw him and Miley sitting together, I wanted to shout at him to fuck off and get away from her. Sometimes, although I had apologized, I felt this way towards Oliver, too. Everyone circled around her like a piece of meat. Couldn't they just leave her alone, ever?

Unfortunately, I was not in a position to fume about boys. I was sitting comfortably in the back of the Stewart family's Range Rover ("Double R, double trouble, just like me" claimed Robby Ray upon buying it) and I had just missed what Miley's dad had asked me.

"Oh, uh, sorry, say that again?"

He laughed heartily. "I _said,_ whatever happened to that Lucas boy? Sweet niblets, Lilly, you're deafer 'n a dead pig with stuffing in its ears."

I had to giggle at Mr. Stewart's comment. "Well, actually, turns out he was cheating on me. I dumped shrimp cocktail on him."

"Well good, hopefully this means you'll never date again? Just like Miley here, I've told her no boys until she's forty." He said this with an affectionate pat on his daughter's shoulder, who was sitting in the passenger's seat.

"Sorry, Mr. Stewart, ain't gonna happen" I replied with a cheeky grin.

"Ain't? Lilly, you sound like you're the one from Tennessee" Oliver laughed.

"Oh no, Miles, you're rubbing off on me!"

Miley turned around to give me a saucy wink. "Lucky me" she said in a low enough voice that her father couldn't hear.

I felt Oliver shiver beside me and I suppressed the oddest urge to do the same. I elbowed him and whispered in his ear with a devilish smile, "You cold? 'Cause I was just thinking it's kinda warm in here."

He shot a murderous look at me and gestured violently at Miley's back.

"Relax, triple O, she can't hear me."

He maneuvered the direction of the conversation masterfully. "I can't believe you managed to drag me along to go _shopping_" he spat out as if it was a horribly offensive word. "Can we at least stop by the skate shop? I wanna look at some new trucks for my board."

I squealed excitedly. "Oooh, yeah! And I want to get some bright blue grip tape."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, but we've got to find Hannah's outfit first. I mean, this is important. Her birthday party is on Tuesday and Traci invited Justin Timberlake. I have to look better than I ever have."

I opened my eyes wide in mock disbelief. "Aw, Miles, you get any prettier and Justin'll get jealous."

"Now, now, Lilly, when I said Miley couldn't date until she was forty I was including you" Mr. Stewart joked.

Miley threw back her head and let out a hearty, grating laugh. I, however, promptly blushed and shut my mouth. Oliver had been watching this whole exchange with an amused expression that had just quickly transformed into a dawning look of understanding. I briefly wondered what had gotten into him, but was more concerned with the antics of my insides, who had decided to cavort about as if I couldn't feel them.

As we pulled into the parking lot of the mall, Oliver kept throwing me snide glances. "God, would you quit it?" I said with a jab at his stomach.

He temporarily doubled over and Miley asked, "What's he doing?"

"He keeps giving me these looks like he knows something I don't, but he hasn't said anything."

Oliver recovered in time to counter with, "Actually, I know something that I'm pretty sure you do, too."

This boy was really starting to get on my nerves. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

He answered with a complacent air about him. "Oh, I think you can figure it out."

Miley hit the back of her seat in frustration. "Would one of you tell me what the Sam heck is going on?"

"I would, but I don't know either!" I shot with venom towards the smug figure beside me.

"Yeah, right" he responded.

"Okay, I've had about enough of this. Either someone explains what the two of you are arguin' about or I'm throwing y'all out of my car!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stewart, but I'm just as clueless as you are."

"So you say" Oliver whispered wickedly in my ear.

--

I was thoroughly confused and a little creeped out by all the shrewd remarks headed my way from a certain helmet-haired friend, but we had come to look for an outfit for Hannah and I was not going to make this all about me.

"Ooooh, let's take a look in Ralph Lauren, shall we?" Miley asked, waltzing in without waiting for an answer. Oliver grumbled good-naturedly and simply stood near the entrance, looking around as if he had gone astray. "Lost, are we?" I asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Lilly! Come help me try this on; I need somebody to tie the back!"

"Hm, no, but I think I know where _you_ want to be. Go get 'em, tiger" Oliver replied with a smirk and pushed my shoulder towards the changing rooms.

This whole 'I know your secret' charade of his was really starting to bug me. "Listen, buddy, if you've got something to say then just say it. What the hell is wrong with you today?"

"Lilly! I'm getting old here!" I heard a certain pop star sing-song from not so far away.

Oliver appeared perplexed. "You really don't know, do you? Well, I'm going to watch you come around with great interest. Now go help Miley change" he ended with an air of finality.

Still bewildered, I headed towards where Miley waited with a hand on her hip and a dress slung over her back. "My hair was getting gray waiting for y'all to shut your traps. What was that about?"

"God knows. And that's not really a problem, is it? 'Cause you've got Hannah's wig to cover it up," I laughed.

"Point taken" she giggled and took a card with a number one stamped on it from the man by the dressing rooms. We pushed a red silk curtain and entered a rather spacious stall with a mirror and several hooks decorating the end. "Dang, they go all out with these. The ones at Hollister and American Eagle here are all cramped" Miley commented.

"Well, I don't think either of those places are selling four-hundred dollar dresses, are they?" I asked dryly.

"You got me there" Miley said while hoisting her shirt over her head, putting the finest tan Malibu has to offer on display in the room. I felt little tingles run up my legs and decided to admire the pattern on the carpet underfoot, but not before I witnessed my best friend drop her skirt. I gulped involuntarily and suppressed the urge to prod my curiously flipping stomach.

"Hey, Lil, would you tie this for me? It's a halter top."

I nodded stiffly and approached her, pushing against the sudden rush of images in my mind of sticky, hot skin and what would happen if I decided not to tie it and just let the dress fall away… I stood a good foot away, trying to get the short amount of fabric to go together with not much success. I stepped forward unconsciously to get a better look and was met with all of Miley's body pressed firmly against my own.

_What the hell, what the hell, what the hell_ I thought furiously as the tingles of electricity became more like thunderbolts up the insides of my thighs. I furrowed my brow in concentration and attempted to ignore the now rather prominent ache in my body. _Now is _really _not a good time…_

"There we go" I said weakly as I finally finished the knot and backed up, immediately missing the warm pressure on my front.

Miley whirled around and posed. "How do I look?"

"Um, terrific."

--

As I've said before, Saturday was our day to be together, and so later that night found us holed up in Miley's room once more, lazing about. I picked out a bottle of light blue nail polish from Miley's collection and plopped myself down on her bed, sinking in slightly.

"Lilly, that color is _so_ winter and HELLO, flip-flop season is starting very soon!"

"Jeeze, organize them under seasons next time" I retorted sarcastically. "I, however, like this color and am impervious to snotty remarks."

"Hey, your funeral" the brunette shrugged. "But let's go to bed soon. I am ridiculously tired, plus I don't want to have bags under my eyes on my date tomorrow… Oh my god, this is hilarious. Lilly, Lilly, look! There's this thing called fanfiction and they've got a whole section for me!" she giggled. "In this one, 'Hannah Montana' runs into Guillermo Montoya while she's looking for her bag in the locker room after his game and they… Well, now that is just plain gross."

--

Miley hungrily attacked my mouth. "Shit, Lilly, I've wanted to do this for so long"

"Me too" I breathed. "Now, stop talking and… and…"

She floated her hand up the front of my shirt with one hand and drew circles on my stomach, the other rubbing the inside of my thigh while she continued to kiss me. I couldn't breath, I couldn't talk… I let out a high-pitched whimper as the fingers of Miley's that were farthest down began to slowly massage their way up and towards where I needed it most.

"Fuck, Miley" I moaned into her mouth. "Could you… could you…"

She grinned wickedly and brought the offending hand to my zipper, slowly pulling it down. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes" I pleaded.

"Tell me what to do, Lilly. What do you want me to do, exactly?" she teased.

"God, just…touch me."

That was all it took, and her hand disappeared into my pajama pants. My eyes widened and I cussed out loud as she did just that. I was close, so close…

Miley practically ripped my shirt off, removing her hand from where it had been. I grunted in protest but she silenced me with another kiss, unclipping the back of my bra. She pushed the remaining clothing on my legs down and commenced placing small kisses on my neck, my collarbone, my stomach, my hipbones, my…

"Jesus Christ, Lilly, scream any louder and the neighbors'll get worried."

"Huh?" I mumbled, rubbing my sleep-encrusted eyes and sitting up from my spot in a purple sleeping bag on the ground.

Miley stared at me from up on her bed. "I said don't make any more noise or somebody'll call the police department" she exclaimed with wide eyes. "So are you going to tell me just who had you thrashing about and _moaning_ like that?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You, misses, were just having a _very _hot dream" Miley said with a devilish grin.

Oh. My. God. In a flash, I remembered. The groaning, the sex, Miley… I blushed furiously and sat bolt right up.

"So?" she prompted with the glimmer in her eye of the look people have when they're pressing you for sordid details about your love life.

I pressed my face into my pillow and wished very dearly that I had not woken up this morning.


	7. Sealed With a Kiss

**A/N:** I think this is the first time I've written parts of two chapters in the same day. Strange? Maybe. But I'm in a very writing mood and I was really psyched at all the reviews. Thanks! I keep reading other fics and realizing my characters have almost no depth. I guess that's a good thing. This is totally off-topic but Camp Rock was okay and Joe Jonas was amazingly hot. Like wow. Like "oh my god that's ridiculous" kind of hot. Kay random note done.

To answer a question, yes, Oliver can see what's going on, even though Lilly hasn't quite figured it out herself. He's just sly like that. And he still likes Miley, too, but that doesn't mean he's not perceptive or above teasing Lilly about it. But for those of you who are eager for Miley to dump Jake and get her woman… well, you have some waiting to do, let me say. We'll see what happens, eh?

On a story-ish note, I outlined like the first two-thirds of this story and it's going to be so goddamn long so I really hope I have the patience and commitment for that because I want very badly for it to be written. I keep writing little bits of future chapters and it excites me a bunch. I've even written the very end. By the way, sorry that this chapter is very internal thought based. Lilly's got a lot going on, eh? I had to get it out of her.

Also, please note that I have changed my penname! Kay all done now, story time I swear.

--

For the remainder of that morning, Miley pestered me incessantly about the mystery lover in my dream. I ignored her as best I could, which was rather difficult considering I was asking myself a lot of questions at the same time. It was like there was a constant buzzing conversation in my ear; one, my bewildered conscience; and two, my equally bewildered and remarkably nosy best friend.

Mr. Stewart had made us his delicious pancakes that morning, with fresh-sliced strawberries and (in my case) tons of good ol' sweet maple syrup, a favorite of mine. I had always liked Miley's dad a great deal, and in comparison to my dad, who walked out of my life at the age of four and never looked back, he was practically a saint. He was the spitting image of the father I never had, and because of that, he was my hero. Sometimes Miley didn't know just how lucky she was.

I probably would have enjoyed our fabulous flapjacks much better had it not come with a heaping portion of verbal prodding on the side. Between mouthfuls of hot pancake, Miley would spring a question about my dream on me, as if catching me off guard would cause me to blurt out all the details accidentally. This happened periodically over breakfast and Jackson even threatened her with The Closet should she keep up her unceasing blabber. At first I was grateful, but this warning immediately prefaced a question about what my mom would be wearing to our annual coming-of-spring party, and I was having none of that. I cleared off my plate with extraordinary speed, told Jackson where he could stick his utensils when he finished, demanded that Miley shut the fuck up before I crazy-glued her lips, and thanked Mr. Stewart profusely before making my leave. I really needed some time alone to sort out all the crap running through my mind.

I found solace in a secluded area of the beach, away from Rico's, away from screaming little children with faces sticky from popsicle juice, away from everybody... Maybe it comes as a surprise to some people, since I'm not really the shy type, but I love just sitting on my lonesome at this little area in the beach where no one is, with my thoughts to myself. It was comforting that I'd always have this place and nobody could take it away from me. On bad days I'd escape the rest of the world and sit here, maybe thinking about life in general or simply not thinking at all.

Right now I opted for the latter; I'd been thinking and feeling far too much recently anyway.

--

It was Monday at school. Again. Funny how that happens. Gym was my last period before lunch, which was good since I got to cool down. I'm really competitive, so I've usually got quite a lot of cooling off to do. And today I was especially grateful for gym class, because A. it required no thinking and B. it was one of the few classes I didn't have with Miley. It's not that I didn't want to see her, not like that at all; it's just that I had too much going on right then and somehow, for whatever reason, Miley was part of that.

Needless to say, I kicked the ball extra hard today, focusing all of my frustration and confusion into the sport. I bowled over Ashley, too, but I wasn't exactly grieving over that. At the end of the period, my clothes still hot and sweaty, I exited the field and headed straight for the lunch room. Oliver was standing by some girl, clearly flirting with her outrageously and clearly not making a good impression.

"Oliver!" I called. He turned around and gave me a wink. "Oliver, she doesn't want to go out with you. Do you?" I said, directing the question at the girl beside him.

"Um" she replied, unsure of what to say.

"Great, then that's settled" I said, grabbing Oliver by the arm and sitting him down next to me at an empty table.

"Jeeze, man, can't I guy work his _own_ moves?" the brunette scowled.

"Not when they're as horrendous as your so called 'moves.' C'mon, let's get in line" I said, gesturing at the wait for our hardly edible cafeteria food. I pawed inside my pocket, searching for a couple of dollar bills. "Damnit, I forgot my cash. Be back in a minute."

I sprinted out the door, ignoring the freshmen looking flustered by the entrance. Hey, man, I was a junior- I was now allowed to move them out of my way. I headed quickly back to my homeroom and pushed the door open, eyes set to cast about for my backpack. Instead, they widened in surprise as I found no other than Miley passionately kissing Jake as he leaned against the teacher's desk. They were so wrapped up in their duel of tongues that they probably wouldn't have noticed me if I didn't gasp. And gag. The two sounds coalesced into something that seemed very reminiscent to me of coughing up a hairball.

Jake was the first to turn around. "...Oh, hi Lilly" he said lamely with a sheepish grin, as if I hadn't just walked in on him and Miley drowning in each other's mouths. Miley turned a delicate shade of pink and giggled, stepping a little away from Jake.

"Erm" I stated uncomfortably. That about summarized my feelings at the current time. Well, besides the roaring, green monster that had sprung up inside my guts, weighing heavily in the base of my stomach and roaring for Jake's blood. I ignored this feeling astonishingly well and motioned towards my backpack lying on the floor. "I'm just gonna, uh, you know…" The former zombie slayer nodded. I rushed over to it, unzipped the front pocket and pulled out my wallet, not bothering to take out how much money I'd need. The very last place I wanted to be at that moment was exactly where I was, so I hastily tossed the old, faded blue thing into a random corner and attempted to scram.

"Wait!" I heard my best friend call. Goddamnit. I turned around. "I'm coming with you" she informed me, giving Jake an apologetic look and mouthing "see you later." I wanted to give Jake a look, too, but it would have been anything but apologetic. Murderous was an adjective that quickly sprang to mind. I cast these thoughts aside and waited for Miley to catch up with me. We fell easily into step in the hall, walking not very purposely back towards the lunch room.

"So" I started, breaking the awkward silence, "looks like the second date went well."

"Yeah" Miley breathed. "Sorry I didn't tell you in History. I had to pay attention because if I fail that next test I'm not going to get under a B and my dad wouldn't be happy."

"Mhm." That had certainly not been a fruitful conversation.

After a couple paces however, Miley decided it was her turn to speak. "...Uh, Lilly, I don't know how to say this, but… you stink."

"Well, duh, I just came back from gym. What do you expect?"

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You've got sweat all over you."

"And you've got Jake slobber all over _you_. Guess that makes us even."

--

Miley, Oliver, and I sat comfortably together on a grassy knoll just off school grounds that Smokin' Oken himself discovered awhile back. He described the find as "a chance encounter" but we all knew that he tripped while running away from the resident school policeman's dog "that looks just like a bear! Christ, the TEETH on that beast!"

Oliver's questionable antics aside, the three of us were quite happy to be enjoying a brief respite of silence from the madness that had taken over our lives of late. Somehow, just being together helped to squelch a bit of the restless qualms brewing inside of me, without even needing a word from either of them. They just had to be there, you know? Knowing that somebody would always be beside you almost always helps to ease the fear of the future. And lately, that fear had been taking lots of control inside of me. In the space of two or three weeks, everything seemed tangible, all of a sudden. Tangible and therefore… breakable. As if life as we knew it was balanced so precariously, was so fragile to the touch, that a sudden gust of wind could blow everything off course. And to me, that was the most frightening idea I had ever stumbled across.

That being said, I was very grateful to the two figures lying beside me, undoubtedly lost in their own thoughts. "Guys?" I said, hesitant.

Oliver sat up a little and Miley gave a casual "Mhm?"

I smiled a little. "Thanks."

Oliver seemed puzzled. "For what?"

"For being here, with me" I answered simply.

"Aw, you're going all soft" Oliver playfully accused, punching me lightly in the shoulder.

"Hey man, doesn't mean you can walk all over me" I retorted. I knew this next piece of information was going to be hard on him, but he had to hear it sometime, so I continued. "Anyway, I'm not the one who is now putty in a certain man's hands… c'mon, tell him, Miles."

Miley grinned and played with the hem of her shirt. "Well, Jake and I are kinda now, you know… together." She seemed extremely pleased at this. I felt my own little personal green monster spring into life once more. I forced him down and waited for Oliver's reaction.

His face darkened slightly and, maybe I was just imagining it because of what I knew, but he seemed to droop a little. "That's… that's great Miles. I'm happy for you." And in a way, I knew he sort of was. However, he seemed to be having masochistic urges and asked, "What happened on Sunday?"

Miley sighed contentedly, as if she could think of nothing better than talking about Jake to us. "He dressed in a button down shirt and kaki shorts. Nothing really fancy, but he had clearly made an effort. And he brought a daisy he got from his yard to put in my hair." _Man, this boy was really mushy._

"It was just so _romantic_. He had brought a basket with food in it; corn bread, ham, sparkling water, and grapes. Like, he wasn't trying to impress me with expensive foods, he was just being sincere. We ate on the beach. He had brought a lighter and we looked around for sticks, then he pulled out marshmallows and we made s'mores. And afterwards, we talked for about an hour. And at the end" here she employed a dramatic sigh, "he looked at me really seriously and told me he was the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and that he'd be honored if I would be his girlfriend. I said yes, of course, and then... well, he kissed me," she finished, embarassed.

_Wow,_ I thought, _Miley is really happy about this._ But try as hard as I might, the thought of the two of them together still… it still hurt me. I couldn't put my finger on it, but god, did it hurt me. I looked over at Oliver, who appeared ready to upchuck at any moment, and knew he was just as displeased as I was.


	8. Angels

**A/N: **Kay, so, I know my Author's Notes have sort of become an update on Miley's life, which is sort of weird, but she won two of Popstar! Magazine's Poptastic awards… for best female singer and Hannah Montana as favorite show. And she's up for six Teen Choice Awards for a million (well, six) different things, including most fanatic fans, haha.

I sort of got writer's block on this for a bit, so I wrote a one shot (different pairing). Sorry about the HUGE wait and sorry that this is REALLY SHORT, but I'm not lost anymore. And ah, I'm going to be gone for a month in Italy for soccer/ in Maryland at my camp, so I won't be able to update in that time (agh so sorry), but when I get back I promise I'll do a big update. So yeahh, here it is, again, sorry for the shortness.

--

Cold, pale starlight glanced in through the window of my room and onto the foot of my bed. I glared at it in a disgruntled fashion. It felt _way _too early to me for there to be any sort of light. I glanced at the clock beside my bed and groaned. 5:17 AM. Shit.

On the other hand, a light breeze was drifting through my window, bringing the chill of the night with it. Anything less than sixty degrees in Malibu was a welcome surprise, so I savored the slight coolness in the wind, purposely not pulling my covers back around me.

Not only was the lower temperature enjoyable, but that meant you could roust a couple of sweaters from their sleeping spots in sporadically hidden boxes around the house. After often a whole year of not being used, they acquired the comforting smell of our closets and woolen carpets. Absolutely nothing can compare to it, except maybe Miley's signature lilac perfume.

_Miley._

Oh. My. God. Today was Tuesday, and thus Hannah's birthday. Lola had been temporarily retired of late, as my mom had kept me in as a sort of punishment for a couple failing math grades. For this most special of occasions, however, she had relented; Robby Ray would be picking me up as Lilly in one of those humongous famous-people vans and I would change there. This led to my current problem, though- I hadn't yet decided on an outfit.

Now slightly happy I had woken up so early, I stretched lazily and proceeded to find suitable clothes. The good thing about being Lola was that I didn't have to worry about matching or any of that stuff. I was never very good with fashion, anyway, that was more of Miley's thing, and you know what they say- leave it to the pros.

After an hour or so of trying stuff on and off, a pile of wrinkled clothing had accumulated in the corner of my room; silver heels, black stockings, a bright blue miniskirt, a long-sleeve white cotton shirt, a black vest, many various-colored armbands, and a purple wig were all set neatly beside it. I grinned in satisfaction and ran my hand through my blond hair, deciding on a cup of tea. I leisurely made my way downstairs and into the kitchen, rummaging about in the cupboard. As the water heated up on the stove, I hummed pleasantly to myself. The morning felt so peaceful and carefree, which was strange considering I was only several hours away from some serious partying.

I poured the hot liquid into a coffee mug and nabbed myself a piece of banana bread. My mom was constantly working, but when she wasn't she baked, read, and played the piano. I guess I should be thankful for her culinary prowess, but on the flip side, we never really talked much. It was limited to asking how my day was after school and some small talk at dinner, plus lectures occasionally when I did something wrong. It was partially my fault, I suppose, for not putting much into our relationship, but it had always seemed to me that my mother wasn't really the kind of woman to have kids. Go figure.

Now sitting in the backyard with my tea and banana bread, I sat down in a wooden chair and stared at the still dark sky, sighing contentedly. The air was fresh and poured down my lungs like water. I shivered involuntarily, unused to the chill. Taking a massive gulp of steaming hot tea, I let it scorch my throat with a sense of relish. Now thoroughly comfortable, I hit the button on the old music player beside me, not sure of what CD was inside. The soothing tones of some Beatles track off Abbey Road completed the sense of serenity and I eased, very gradually, into a deep slumber.

--

I became aware very slowly of some sort movement above my head and a low hush of a voice. Still not quite awake, I creaked my eyelids open and my first, irrational thought was that there was an angel hovering over me. Beyond the foggy cloud of sleep all I could make out were a pair of soft, pink lips; bright, dancing blue eyes; and the light touch of the tips of dark brown hair on my arms. However in those split-seconds I concluded that an angel would probably not be laughing rather raucously at me upon my entrance to heaven.

"Wha-?" I incoherently stuttered, my brain working furiously to start functioning but fumbling the job rather miserably. "M-Miles?"

The would-be angel I then recognized as my best friend decided that my present weak state would be an excellent time to jab me in the stomach…hard.

"Shit, Miley!" I cussed loudly, leaping up from my sitting position immediately. "What the fucking hell?"

"Serves you right for being late to go to Hannah's birthday party" she replied with a smug air about her.

Oh fuck.


	9. Mothers' Day Tears

**A/N:** Finally back after Italy and camp, and ready to get writing. I kept being really unhappy with how it came out, so I wrote and re-wrote it a million times. I'm not quite satisfied with it, but tell me what you think.

Also, about the plot, I've moving it on a little bit in this chapter. So, well…yeah, enjoy.

--

20 minutes after I had been oh so rudely awoken from my peaceful slumber, the clothes I had picked out earlier were neatly folded in my lap as I sat upon velvet cushions near the end of the limo. Miley's Hannah wig was poking out of her bag and she absent-mindedly picked at loose strands.

"Miley, if you keep that up Hannah's going to be bald."

"Hey, Britney shaved it all off and she's better than ever."

"You don't know that."

"Know what, that she's better than ever? Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, because at my concert in Dallas, Britney was-"

"No, I mean you don't know that she shaved it _all_ off." I wiggled my eyebrows in case my incredibly dumb sense of humor wasn't penetrating through to her brain yet.

"I- God, Lilly, if I catch you saying this kind of thing to Justin I swear, I'll..." And… yess, I was rewarded for my efforts with a roll of the eyes and a slight smile.

"You'll what? Kill me? That would be good for your career, I'm sure."

"Well, A, I never said that and B, if you think I'm kidding about the Justin thing then you're mistaken, I haven't forgotten that time with the shrimp where you-"

"Justin?"

"_Timberlake_, I think you're familiar with him" she added sarcastically.

"Yeah, but I'm not on casual, first name terms with him as you so clearly are."

"I met him once" Miley defended herself automatically.

"So? I met Drew Barrymore once, but you don't see me going around saying, _Oh Drew positively hates blahblahblah, yes, yes, Drew and I were at-_"

"Stuff it, Truscott, before you become suddenly uninvited to my party."

"Hey, hey, let's not make any hasty decisions here. After all, where would Hannah be without her trusty Lola?"

"Oh, shut up" the popstar grinned while simultaneously tossing the blonde wig at my head. I was just about to retort when the deep voice of the driver came from a speaker near my right ear.

"Ms. Montana? We will be arriving in ten minutes. Thank you."

Since there was no way to speak to the driver without using the microphone near the front, Miley merely took the message in stride and removed her make up case from her bag, flipping open an eye shadow container and choosing purple over gold to apply to her lids. Once she was finished touching up other areas on her face, she turned to me.

"I'm gonna need that back" she said, pointing at the unruly blonde mop now on the cushion next to me.

"What, this?"

"Yes that."

"Nah, I'm keeping it. You basically gave it to me."

"_Lillian_" she reprimanded in a remarkable impression of my mother.

"Fine" I grumbled and chucked it back to her.

A couple minutes later found us, now transformed into Hannah and Lola, preparing to walk into the fancy restaurant that Traci had rented out for the party. Somehow the secret of the location had gotten out, and at least thirty of the 'paps' were clustered around the entrance, cameras already abuzz as they witnessed the limo pulling up.

Miley (Hannah?) was waiting by the door. She turned to me. "Ready?"

"Yeah" I breathed. I hadn't been Lola in two months, so I had a slight case of the butterflies, but they were banished far, far away as Miley gave me a reassuring smile. A large man in a suit opened the door, and the flurry of _click, click, clicks_ from cameras immediately became audible, as well as the annoying flashes that accompanied them. Miley pasted a grin on her face and stepped out, posing momentarily. I then got out behind her, matching her facial expression as best I could.

I was met with blinding lights but I pressed onwards. Miley was having a little trouble getting through to the door. While many questions were being thrown at Miley, a couple were being tossed my way as well, no doubt hoping I would have a less red carpet practiced, and looser tongue. We both ignored them, however, knowing our words would only be twisted and turned back on us. Miley made it past a group of 'paps' with the help of her bodyguard, but they had converged behind her and I was separated.

I vainly struggled to push through without socking somebody in the face, but it was a lost cause. Just as I was resolving to wait until the buzz had died down to get in, Miley reappeared in front of me and held out her hand, giving me a brief smile. I clasped it and nearly recoiled. Electric shocks had run down my arms, down my torso, down my legs.

I looked up and found myself staring Miley square in the eye. It didn't matter that she was frowning, or that her wig was now rather mussed. It didn't matter that she was my best friend, or that she was a girl. And it didn't matter that we were standing in front of hundreds of strangers and cameras. It was as if hundreds of tiny puzzle pieces had suddenly arranged themselves in front of my eyes, and I realized that without a doubt, I was in love with Miley Stewart.

--

The party hardly mattered. I saw at least twenty A-list celebrities and didn't bat an eye. All the pretty faces seemed uglier, somehow, and less interesting than I'd always found them. They were all moving in slow motion. Miley had tugged me along into the restaurant, which had been cleared into a dance floor. Apparently the cake was huge, a yellow and purple castle with the words 'Hannah Montana' emblazoned on top. I don't know. I don't really remember.

The next six hours after my revelation were like stories that had been dipped in water. Everything was fuzzy, blurred, almost as if I'd been looking through the lens of a camera. All that I can say for sure is that Miley- even as Hannah- had looked beautiful that night. She glowed. She always had, I realized then, but I'd never really paid attention. Despite the furious activity going on outside of me, my mind was working far harder. Little bits of memory were being taken and rearranged to show them for what they really were.

It didn't make sense at all, and yet, in the strangest of ways, it made perfect sense. I guess one would expect there to be some sort of denial, but there wasn't. It appeared crystal clear to me that I was in love with her. I'd really been in denial for several weeks, that stage was over. And while it made none of my feelings easier or better, they were no longer hiding. I had not been jealous of Miley for being with Jake for some time. Their positions had flipped sometime in the last month or so. And all the nervousness, coupled with excitement and arousal- that hadn't been random like I'd thought.

I had then entered a sort of peaceful acceptance of this new bit of information. Alas, it was not destined to last.

--

"So what did you get your mum for Mother's Day?" Oliver asked, casually leaning back in his plastic chair. He concluded this question with a long sip of a strawberry smoothie, courtesy of Rico's.

"Oh, she's one of those moms that think these kinds of holidays are ridiculous. I'll probably just make her breakfast or something."

"Uh, since when could you cook?"

"Oh, shit, good point. I better get her a little something then. What have you gotten for your mom?"

"See, I know the way to every woman's heart. I made a heart-shaped thingy out of clay in art and it says mom, plus I filled it with little chocolates. My mom's a sucker for those Hershey bits with toffee pieces. And I'm making her a card" Oliver finished with a very self-satisfied look playing about his face.

"You're such a gay" I laughed at him.

"Please, you know that's not true. You're the one who went snooping under my bed and found my stash of-"

"Whoa there, I've been trying to repress that memory for the last year and a half, don't ruin it now" I emphasized with a grimace, squeezing my eyes shut in mock pain.

"Yeah, so me- not gay. You, however…"

I flushed at this remark. He was just kidding, right? Then I remembered that time a week back that Oliver had been acting really weird and I hadn't been able to figure it out. Guess I now understood out what he had been going on about now. "Shut the fuck up" I muttered.

Fuck. How see through was that? Why didn't I laugh it off?

"Ooh, touchy touchy, I see. Have I struck a nerve?"

"Shut up, Oliver, I'm not- I don't like…I like guys" I concluded dramatically. Wow, I am a _really _shitty liar.

Oliver seemed to be thinking for a moment. "I take it you… you've realized-" He broke off awkwardly. I could see there was no way around it—Oliver had understood me better than I had, and there was no sidestepping the obvious.

"Look" I started off, unsure of how to phrase this. "I, um, I guess I, well…"

Oliver set his smoothie down. I carefully examined the little dots of red from the battered strawberries. Oliver cleared his throat but I refused to look up at him. I could feel the intense heat creeping up my neck. "It's alright, Lilly, I know…and it's cool with me."

Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief. I still wanted to clear something up, however. "Um, but just so, like, just so you know, I'm not…like that. It's only-"

"Miley" he finished softly. "I know how you feel."

"You do?" I asked, frowning.

"Yeah, remember what I told you?"

"Oh" I said lamely. I must have been stupid to forget that Oliver liked Miley, too. "Right."

"And to be honest- no offense- I don't think I've got any better of a shot than you do. I'm, well, I'm just a friend" he stated, without a trace of looking for pity in his voice.

"Yeah, but you're a pretty good one" I smiled and hit him on the shoulder lightly. "I guess we're in the same boat now."

"Yeah" he agreed. "I guess we are."

And it was in those few minutes that Oliver and I became closer than we'd ever been. Miley, of course, was still my best friend, but Oliver understood me in a way she couldn't possibly have. We were both hopelessly in love- with the same person, as fate would have it, but neither of us entertained any false glimmers of hope. Sure, it was difficult seeing her and Jake together and, worst of all, happy, but we weren't going to halt our lives because of it.

Oliver and I were not the kind of people who let unrequited love stand in our way of happiness, and I would have to hold to this principle very dearly in the days to come, although I did not know it then.

--

I woke up groggy and disoriented. As my bedroom slowly came into focus, I sat up, yawned loudly, and stretched to the farthest of my abilities. I settled back into my sheets to lethargically lie awake for another couple of minutes before eventually getting out of bed, but noticed a small white note attached to the dresser by my bed. I picked it up.

"_Thanks for the present! Unfortunately, I have to go to work today. See you at dinner._

_Love you, _

_Mom"_

_Of course, _I thought sullenly. I had been stupid to think that Mothers' Day would actually mean getting to spend some time with my mom. I thought about calling Miley and immediately felt selfish and ashamed. Miley would never get to spend time with her mother again. This only strengthened my resolve to be with her today. This had to be the absolute worst 'holiday' for someone who had lost their mom.

I held down the number two and waited for Miley to pick up.

"Hey" she answered, not sounding upset.

"Oh, er, hi" I began nervously. Maybe it had been a bad idea to call her. After all, she might very well want to spend this day with her family.

"Did you call for a reason or just to stutter at me?" Miley giggled and I felt something in my chest flutter.

I cursed my overactive insides and responded. I wasn't just going to hang up now, and saying I'd just called to wish her a happy Mothers' Day would be a very poor decision. "Oh, well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?"

"Sounds good to me. Have you had breakfast?"

"No," I admitted, "I'm starved."

"Oh, then hurry on over to my house because my dad's already started making French toast and bacon."

"Sweet!" I said excitedly. "Be there in ten!"

I threw on the first couple things I grabbed in my drawer, not bothering to pick out an outfit. This was Robby Ray's cooking we were talking about, and I was not going to sacrifice a meal for the sake of fashion. Again, that was more Miley's thing.

Running down the stairs and slipping on a pair of Chucks, I nabbed my skateboard from the corner and started down the street. Nothing fancy along the way, just nice and fast. I pulled out my cell phone 5 minutes later and called the house.

Jackson picked up. "Hello?"

I wasted no time. "Lilly landing in fifteen!" I hung up as the Stewarts house came into view. I saw Jackson hurrying to open the door and then sailed in, stopping before I could wreak any damage to their wood floor.

"Hey" I tossed at Jackson, who was now closing the door to yet another flawless landing. A routine perfected in time, of course. "Mmm, Mr. Stewart, that smells good."

He turned around from inside the kitchen and gave me a weak smile. I could tell instantly he was thinking about his late wife and the sympathy I felt seemed to sear across my heart.

A rumbling from the stairs was audible and Miley appeared, looking happier than her dad, at least. "Hi, Miles."

"Hey Lils" she smiled.

My stomach rumbled rather loudly.

"And hell-o Lilly's stomach! Dad, I hope breakfast is on its way because Lilly is dangerous when she's hungry."

"That's right" I confirmed with a mock evil smirk. "Better watch out."

Soon enough the food was ready and we had tucked into it, mouths full of delicious steaming French toast and crispy bacon. The air about the table was of strained normality. The forced small talk made its rounds until there was little else to say. Everyone helped themselves to seconds, partially to fill the silence. After everyone had had their fill, I leaned back and sighed. I attempted to make a comment about the LA Dodgers- of whom I knew nothing about- but my lack of knowledge quickly made itself apparent and I was given a good old fashioned lesson on the principals of baseball from Mr. Stewart, with sporadic comments from Jackson. Eventually this talk gave way to a general easier atmosphere and tensionless conversation began to flow.

--

Two hours later, we lay comfortably in Miley's room, just talking. Even with my newly discovered feelings, everything when I was around her just seemed so _easy_ and natural. It was like you were always at your best, always on top of your game when you were with her.

She propped herself up by her elbows on her bed. "Wanna take a walk?"

Five minutes time found us out the door. The air was crisp and moist, the sky slightly dark. I pointed these slightly foreboding signs to Miley but she merely laughed. "Who cares? We can just dry our clothes."

I smiled at her simple passion for life. It was so effortless to be happy around Miley. She never failed to thrive on the good in life and take the bad in stride, and the feeling permeated everything around her.

"Let's go to the park" I suggested. She nodded and we set off.

Once there, the two of us settled on a bench in one of the gardens. Nobody else was about.

"It's so quiet and peaceful" I observed.

"Yeah" Miley agreed. "Everyone's probably spending the day inside with their mom."

No one else would have been able to catch the hint of sorrow and nostalgia in her voice but I, for no one else knew her on quite the same level as I did. I reached out for her hand and she laced her fingers with mine, squeezing tightly. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I felt my heart beat faster.

"I miss her so much" Miley whispered, so quietly that I briefly wondered if I'd imagined it.

"I know you do, Miles, I know" I said and pulled her nearly onto my lap, holding her close with one arm and drawing circles on her lower back with the other. "And she would be so, so proud of where you are now" I told her with my head on her chin, knowing what I said to be true.

Just then, the sky's promise of a storm was upheld and large drops began to fall sporadically. Quickly their pace became furious and we were drenched. Miley huddled into my arms and we made no move to escape the torrent. The brown haired girl, who was rather tall for a woman, trembled in my arms and at that moment felt small and scared in my embrace. It was not often you caught Miley Stewart in a vulnerable state of mind. She turned herself around, now straddling me and hugging me fiercely. She sniffled into the crook of my neck and the tears began to fall, like the rain, first slow and irregular but growing into a steady stream. I spoke words of comfort and held her pressed against my body so tightly that from far away an observer might scarcely be able to tell that there were two of us. Oddly calm in this raw moment, I was content to stay in the park with my best friend, her tears, and the rain.

--

**A/N:** Alright, finally got that down. I'm sorry for the huge wait. Now this is the only time I'm gonna ask, but since I've been gone so long, could you please review so I know that people are still reading this. If nobody is anymore, I probably wont get the next chapter down for a bit, since I've got a hundred other things to do. Thanks.


	10. You're A Liar

A/N: I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON. I KNOW. School started and I have a boyfriend again and…. I suck. HOPEFULLY I'll be able to update at least a couple times a month now. Well, that will happen if people are actually still reading this, which I kind of doubt. You're probably gonna have to re-read for anything to make sense…. I know I did. My most fervent apologies, again.

Now that I think of it, most of us Liley authors are totally sucking in the update departments. Of course I've been much worse, but it seems like the whole ~community~ or whatnot is totally dead right now, soooo everybody should update! Yay! I like that idea!

Er, I've sort of changed the tense to present because I like the notion that everything is playing out as you read it and not before. And this will have a distinct plot and everything, now that I've set everything up as well as I can- badly, it turns out- events should begin unfolding…no promises, though, I'm unpredictable.

Oh, and thank you SO much for all the reviews last chapter! Like, indescribable thanks deserve to be handed out to everyone. Alright, seriously this time, peace and here's the chapter.

--

Suddenly I am ravenous for words to describe how I feel about her. I have been scribbling nonsense on page after crumpled page for no less than two hours and it has left me incredibly frustrated. I imagine I look like I ran a marathon. _Ridiculous_.

When I first realized what Miley truly meant to me, I was calmly accepting, almost like it felt right. Now I'm pissed as hell and practically want to blame her for this. She flirts with everything that has a pulse, honestly. Her eyes shamelessly rake over boy after boy and I can't even bring myself to feel as if I'm intruding on something because she throws it out in the open for everyone to see.

Well, you know what? Fuck that. I scrunch up my last sheet of paper into a messy ball and turn towards the waste bin in my room. I shoot for three. I score. Like I could ever put this thing- whatever it is- on paper. The only thing I am sure of is that she single-handedly creates more emotions in me than any other person I have ever known. Anger, jealousy, resentment, peace, happiness…and that most fickle of them all, love.

It's a school night and I haven't even started my homework. "No, Mr. Corelli, I didn't do my homework because I was struggling to understand my growing crush on my female best friend. All is well." Yup, that would totally shut him up.

I quickly change into pajamas and peel the cover off my bed, slipping into the cold it hid underneath and snuggling deep in. Maybe someday it will be Miley I'm holding instead of empty sheets. Maybe someday these feelings will disappear as easily as the mist clinging to the window of my bedroom. But for now, the real world, school, Miley- they can all wait, because for now I am drifting into the dream world where anything is possible and my life is as weightless as a feather on the wind.

--

Sunlight is painful, painful stuff, let me tell you. I grumble incoherently at the unfairness of it all and scrabble vainly on the little table by my bed to turn off the irritating ringing noise that currently fills my ears. Aha! Got it. I push where the off button must be and-

"DAMNIT!" I cuss as I hear the dull thud of the alarm clock as it makes contact with the ground, still beeping incessantly. I leap out of bed and quickly press the off button, toss the object across the room into a pile of clothes, and leap back into bed. Warmness envelops me once more. Morning person, I am not. Sleep once again pervades my mind.

--

"Lilly?"

A voice is talking to me. If I ignore it, it will go away.

"Lilly!"

The voice is getting angry. Whoops, too late, I have to keep up my charade of slumber.

"LILLY!"

This one is loud and painful. I squeeze my eyes hard shut in hopes of somehow blocking out the noise by not seeing the object that is emitting it.

"For Christ's sake, Lilly-"

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up, I'm up, I'm up!" I cry as the covers are yanked off my supposedly sleeping form. Why are mothers so persistent?

"You have three minutes to get up, shower, dress, and eat breakfast before Miley gets here. Go!" She tosses the stolen blanket onto the edge of my bed and leaves the room as I hop into action.

No time for showering. Unfortunate, and mildly gross, but inescapable. Clothes appear on my body almost magically as I tear them from the never ending Pile of Things-That-I-Wore-For-One-Hour-Like-A-Week-Ago-and-Therefore-Aren't-Dirty. With 54 seconds to go, I fly down the stairs and seat myself at the wooden table. I spread a purpley mixture that smells like grapes and vinegar onto two pieces of toast that have been left at the table for my consumption. I hear a girly honk at the door and have to settle for breakfast on the go.

"Fye bob!" I yell at my mother through toast and walk out the door.

"Uh, if you think you're going to be eating _that_ in my BRAND NEW car then you are very mistaken."

"Fbut Miwey!"

"Eat. Now."

I sourly stuff an entire piece of toast in my mouth and commence chewingy loudly and with my mouth open. This feels like a wet sock. Miley got a black Prius for her birthday and she is overly protective of it. She seriously treats it as if it's her newborn baby son destined to change the world with its magical healing powers. Well, maybe not that bad. But it is a little ridiculous.

"Classy, Lilly, really classy" Miley says disdainfully as she watches the food in my mouth get torn into bits.

I grin cheekily, swallow- God, that's dry- and toss the second piece of toast into the bushes by my house. There's no way I'm going down that road again.

Miley gives me the proud look a kindergarten teacher might give a four year old who has finally discovered that 2 + 2 equals 4 and opens the door for me.

I do my best to shoot her a frosty glare in return.

Miley bursts out laughing and leans her head against the steering wheel. She gasps amid chuckles, "You look- (wheeze) like you- (giggle)- spilled lemon juice-(snort?)- into your eyes (wheeze) and are trying (wheeze) not to cry (giggle giggle giggle)."

Damnit.

--

"Smokin' Oken comin' through, watch it ladies, you might get buuurned."

Miley and I speak in unison. "Oliver, shut up."

He places his tray on our table, unwraps an enormous sandwhich, and takes an equally huge bite before he deigns to respond. "Fyoo bo, if I wubnt so hungwy, den baby I'd fbe burt."

A look of disgust crosses Miley's face. "_Why _do all of my friends talk with their mouth full?"

Before either Oliver or I could respond, a shrill whine cuts into the conversation. "Jaaaake, why are you going to sit at the loser table?" Amber pouts.

He answers somewhat snappily. "Uh, because my girlfriend is there?"

"Yeah, along with helmet-hair boy and the girl who hasn't had a boyfriend since freshman year."

I ignore this rude comment and focus on my mashed potatoes. Oliver, however, looks totally crushed. "My _name_ is Smokin' Oken!" Okay, maybe not.

Now McZombieslayer just seems uncomfortable. "Can we not, please?"

"Jake! It's not my fault your girlfriend is a backwards hick who can't even spell her own name and sits with-"

Oliver, Jake I both stand up at the same time.

"Shut the fuck up!" I heroically demand.

"Go wax your moustache!" Oliver heroically one-ups me with.

"Amber… come on" Jake heroically fumbles.

Miley sighs. "Guys, not worth it."

Oliver sits down, clearly embarrassed at his sudden outburst. Jake returns to his chair as well, clearly embarrassed at his lack of sudden outburst. I am not so easily cooled, however, and step closer to Amber. "Listen here, asshole, you don't-" My hand is tugged away from it's current position as angry pointer finger. Miley holds it firmly and restates, "Seriously, Lilly, _not worth it_. Let's just go."

As she pulls my still fuming self out of the room, Amber takes the opportunity of our clasped hands to make a last jab. "Guess we know why you haven't had a boyfriend in ages!"

--

"Dude, thank GOD it's Friday!" I breathe as Miley and I commence the walk home. "I seriously don't think I could stand another day of school. Not this week."

My brown-haired best friend rolls her eyes in response. "Are you still mad about what happened at lunch? Lilly, it's Amber. I don't know what else you expect from her."

"Well, it just pissed me off, you know? She only said that because Jake wasn't paying enough attention to her. She could have yelled at him. But instead we got to be the butt of her anger."

"Exactly! It wasn't a personal attack, it was just Jake stuff."

Now I'm sorry I brought him up. I hate the way she says his name. "Yeah, and he toootally handled the pressure well. Knight in shining armor right there."

I notice she reddens a little at this, but proceeds to defend him anyway. "What was he supposed to do, throw an angry fit? Amber's too petty to even bother with. And anyway, Oliver beat him to the moustache line."

Unsatisfied, but equally unwilling to continue our current subject of conversation, I concede this partial truth with a slight grunt.

Miley unlocks her front door and sets her bag down as I toss my backpack somewhere and we both collapse onto the couch. It was starting to get pretty hot again.

"And anyway, Amber was kinda right."

"What?! Miley, I've _seen_ you write your name, I know you can do i-"

My protest is cut off with a heart chuckle. "Not that, you moron. I meant the bit about you." What? Why the hell does she want to continue a topic that Amber started to insult me with? "Hear me out, Lilly, I'm not saying it to hurt you. I'm just saying…. It's been awhile. I mean, it's not like you haven't had offers! I know for a fact that Zack asked you out four days ago because he was crying in the toilet stall next to Oliver. He's cute! Why didn't you say yes? You need to get out there, have some fun." She rubs my knee consolingly and I suppress the desire to yank her hand farther up. "I'm worried about you, Lilly, you seem down lately."

I widen my eyes in dissent and stutter convincingly. "Uh, what? I'm fine. I'm better than fine! I'm great! Completely happy. No need to worry."

"You're a horrible liar, Lilly. And when you want to tell me what's up, I'm here."


	11. Purity Ring

A/N: I wasn't lying when I said I'd actually update within the next less than six months! BOO YAH! To answer a question, Lilly actually isn't gay, the only girl she likes/loves is Miley, and no, Miley knows nothing about it.

**COUGH**everybodyvoteformileyattheKCAs**COUGH **

THINGS ACTUALLY HAPPEN IN THIS CHAPTER. Basically the whole story so far has been building up Miley and Jake's relationship and Lilly discovering her feelings and all so very few specific events have occurred, but at long last, things are finally moving forward. Whoo.

Oh, and thank you SO MUCH to the people who reviewed, I can't believe _anyone_ is still reading this. So really, thank you thank you thank you.

--

"You're a horrible liar, Lilly. And when you want to tell me what's up, I'm here."

Cue nervous inhale. "I will. I promise. Just not right now." Cue shaky exhale. If you haven't noticed, sometimes my life feels like I'm just reading from a script.

"Good" Miley smiles. "Hugs?"

She holds out her arms expectantly and I lean forward, allowing her to wrap them around me and envelop my body in warmth. Cue emotional hug. She buries her head in the crook of my neck, touching the protruding bone with the tip of her nose, which I notice is rather cold.

"You're comfy" she murmurs drowsily.

My hands brush the edge of her spine as I grip tighter. "And you're skinny."

She chuckles good-naturedly and slaps my back lightly but does not let go. I have a hate-love relationship with moments like these. One of her legs, folded, is pushed a good foot between mine and her giggling chest is smushed just below my neck. This causes me to want to shove her back against the couch and ravish her on the spot. My face is also heating up immensely. This makes me want to flee her grasp and never let her touch me again. Neither seems like the most appropriate decision, and so I settle on slightly awkwardly rubbing her back. Hmm…

Miley lets go suddenly and sits bolt right up. "Ow! Lilly!"

"What?!"

"You snapped my bra!"

Hurt is evident upon my face. "Did not!"

"Yes, you did, just now!"

I am quite indignant at the statement of this obvious truth. "How could you say such a thing?"

"I swear, you need your own TV show because-" she scrambles for a pillow from the couch "-you're so-" she succeeds in nabbing one "-full of-" I am petrified "-crap!"

BAM! Sack of goose feathers to face! I quickly grab one of my own and whack her against her side. She cackles rather evilly and smashes her pillow into my stomach and leaps away from the danger zone, heading towards the stairs. I follow with a gleeful grin, chasing her all the way up into her room. I look around wildly. Miley is nowhere to be seen.

I hear the closet door creak. "Hraaahhhh!" A pillow is brought down with full force over the back of my head and I topple forwards, head colliding against the edge of the mattress of her bed.

"Ow!" I yelp, voice dripping with pain.

"Oh god, Lilly, are you okay?" she says, looking completely overly concerned.

I whimper slightly. "Owww…" I touch my head and blink my bleary eyes. "I can't… see" I gasp. "I need…" She nods worriedly, waiting for me to finish my request, "…revenge!" I swiftly bring the pillow I had still been holding to hit her square in the face.

The expression she bore in that split second before her expression became impossible to see was absolutely priceless. There is nothing like the look someone gives you when they figure out he or she has been tricked. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o' and her eyebrows narrowed, her eyes full of comprehension. And now I am scared.

I suddenly feel hard strikes of the soft material rain down upon me mercilessly. I distinctly catch the words 'faker,' 'cheap,' and 'socks' amid a tirade of otherwise inaudible grumbling and outrage from my female companion.

"I was so worried!" Miley laughs once she finally tires of beating me up, relaxing on the bed with her back against the wall. I, too, am winded and thus in no condition to retaliate.

I grin back at her in response.

"Devil child" she spits.

"But you love me for it!"

"Myes I dwoo" she indulges me with a baby voice. She grabs her discarded pillow once again and I sense danger but am far too lazy to avert it. "Luv you shoooo mush I jusht might" she swings her leg over my hips and pins me to her bed "SUFFOCATE YOU!" she yells happily as she pushes the pillow against my mouth so that my head is pressed backwards and I am completely incapable of moving. She enjoys hearing my muffled shrieks for all of twenty seconds as I become aware of our current position. She is straddling me. Her butt is totally squashed against places I do not care to mention. If we were naked, this would be awkward.

She kindly removes the object she had shoved into my mouth and thoughtfully allows me to breathe as I thank my lucky stars that I was already red from lack of oxygen because I am sure I would otherwise have turned a lovely shade of crimson for absolutely no reason.

She smiles at me benignly as if she had not just tried to kill me. "Now, I'd love to smother you alllll through the day, but it's 5:30 and I have to meet Jake at six."

I try not to look like a dog that has been kicked repeatedly and thrown into the rain, which is exactly how I feel, and merely make some kind of affirmative scratching noise with the back of my throat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yup. Yeah, I've got to go meet Oliver soon anyway. We're seeing a movie," I announce, as if it matters.

She extricates herself from my body and we both head downstairs to get our bags. As we head in opposite directions, she shouts "Call me tomorrow!"

I will. Of course.

--

It is Saturday night. I lounge on Miley's bed, throwing a soccer ball up and down while lying on my back. Miley is on her computer, furiously IMing- yeah, you guessed it- Jake, most perfect of all human specimens. I am getting pretty tired of hearing that boy's name. After a flurry of small blooping sounds from the Mac, my brown-haired best friend heaves a sigh heavily laced with frustration. Despite myself, I have to ask.

"What's wrong, Miles?" I try my very best not to sound too hopeful.

"Oh… it's nothing. Just Jake stuff" she says with the tone of voice that suggests the speaker very dearly wants to complain to you but does not want to initiate the conversation. I would indulge her.

"Oh, come on, you know you can tell me anything."

The brunette appears pensive for all of half a second- to complete the act, I feel sure- then swivels her chair around, sits next to me, and continues. "It's just that… I mean, Jake's great, he really is, but" her face begins to gather color "we'll be, you know, uh, making out, and we'll just have to, well, stop because he…. Um, he's very religious _and_ he has to maintain his image, so he has a purity ring… and it's not like I want to go all the way or anything" she adds rather quickly, her face reminiscent of a ripe tomato, "but he gets me all, er, excited and then just…nothing. It makes me…" she does not finish her sentence and instead examines the floral pattern of her comforter as if she has not seen it a thousand times before, not quite succeeding at masking the sheet of red that has taken the place of her face.

I am rather speechless as well. How the _fuck_ was I supposed to respond to my best friend telling me that she's mad because her boyfriend won't touch her?

"So… you're saying you're horny… a lot." Wow. That was unintentionally blunt.

Miley blushes a darker shade of crimson, if possible, and emits some sort of grunt that I assume is supposed to mean yes.

I thought I'd lighten the situation. "Well then, Ms. Stewart, I think I can help you in that department." I place my hand by her naval and, excruciatingly slowly, trailed my fingers downward, waiting for her to brush me away and laugh.

She does not.

I continue, still convinced that any second she will push me away with a heart chuckle. When I am a centimeter away from the waistband of her pajama pants, I look up and try to read her expression. What I see almost, _almost_ stops me, and it is that quick, hasty, not well thought out decision that marks my future, intertwining it with the lives of others. It is her eyes. They have become a dark, dark blue, like a medley of impossibly small chips of ice. It terrifies me. Miley's eyes are always warm, inviting, even, but this evening they are so very cold. So cold they numbed my mind itself, which could only think to continue proceed with what it is doing as I watch her eyes not truly see me and cloud over with something that can only be described as pure, unadulterated lust.

I brush fabric with my hand and still she has not moved. Hesitantly, I dip the edges of my fingertips underneath it and am met with shocking warmth compared to the chill of her eyes. I am excited, nervous, and vaguely aware that I am making a very large mistake. But I could not stop then, for Miley's expression was a perfect map of within- wanton desire, nothing more or less. Without words, she almost seemed to be pleading for this to happen.

And so I float my hand across warm, smooth skin, until I am met with the last obstruction, the last layer of clothing between myself and the only part of Miley that I do not know. Here her breath hitches, and I know she is waiting. I have never been able to deny her.

I push past this final barrier and am forced to realize that Miley is not a little girl anymore, physically or mentally. Neither am I. She had needs and I- I was only fulfilling one of them. This, what was happening right now, it means nothing to her. And I, like the coward I am, shamefully accept that fact as I gently rub her without truly touching her yet. But Miley does not want to be gentle. She moves, for what seems like the first time in hours, so that her back is against the edge of the bed, maneuvering me with her so that I was effectively pinning her there. She shifts downwards and spreads her legs only slightly, but enough that my middle finger is brought to her center.

I discover that she is wet- sopping wet, in fact, so much so that my finger is coated in stickiness. I enter in carefully and immediately she pushed down on me. I attempt to go slowly but she is in no mood for that. She speeds up and the pace and eventually I was doing hardly anything at all; just Miley pressing one, then two of my fingers inside of her She begins to breathe heavily and lean against me, and despite myself I feel a stirring in my lower stomach.

"Shit…. Fuck, fuck, Lilly" she pants and increases her speed once more, coming closer to the edge. I cringe. Miley is usually so sweet that when she curses, it sounds dirty and wrong on her lips.

"Oh, god… fuck!" And with that, she grabs onto the small of my back and rams down hard on my fingers, holding them there and screaming into the crook of my neck. She breathes raggedly and finished with a few, far weaker, thrusts.

When I am sure she is done, I remove my hand and, shame ringing in my ears, walk to my side of the bed, not looking at her once. She leans farther back where she has been resting and exhales shakily. As her breathing returns to normal, she paces quietly to the light switch and flicks it off. She gets under the covers as far as possible to the other side and everything is silent.

I lay, unsure of what to do about the sticky mess on my fingers and doing my best to ignore the still present ache between my legs.

I don't think I have ever felt so used in my life.

-

**A/N:** Well, that was the first time I have even attempted to write a sort of sex scene and it turns out it's really awkward for me so I kind of suck at it and skirted around using actual words, so sorry about that. Don't expect there to be too much detail, really, because… vaginas are gross. I just don't want to talk about them or their various functions. Okay, once again I'm sorry I'm awkward, and thanks for reading.


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